


You and Nothing Else

by CaptainTarthister



Series: The Lannisters Are Coming [49]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Body Image, Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Married Sex, Older Married Sex, Porn, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 23:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13624068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: Brienne believes bikinis no longer belong on her forty-seven-year-old body. Jaime agrees because she's best-looking naked.





	You and Nothing Else

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SeleneU](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeleneU/gifts).



> Jaime is ten years older than Brienne. That makes him fifty-seven years old.

_Bathing suit season_.

Three words scarier than _tax season_ or _Mr. and Mrs. Lannister, we have to talk._

Brienne stared at the small pile of bikinis and swimsuits on the bed before raising her head towards the ceiling. Full, slightly chapped lips formed a silent prayer before she turned her attention back to the tangled rainbow of spandex bits and pieces.

She unbuttoned her blouse and stepped out of her shoes. Though the weather was warmer, her nipples stiffened upon exposure. A deep pink blush spread from her forehead down to her neck as she finished undressing, pushing down her trousers and panties in one swoop. She stared at the swimwear scattered on the bed again before taking a deep breath and choosing the first set.

It was a racer-backed bright blue one-piece. Dull sapphire eyes stared back at her from the mirror. Three times a week she swam laps for half an hour in the university pool. Jaime had been with her when she picked the suit and suggested the color. It brought out her eyes, and he was right.

The suit was only a little over a year old but she looked and felt. . .wrong. She turned, tugging at the bottom with a frown as it kept riding up her ass. She was packing more meat there lately, which was an entirely new thing. It gave her softened but still boyish figure a more feminine touch—which Jaime appreciated very much with playful slaps on the flesh in the bedroom. Her cheeks were pink recounting that memory and they burned more vividly as she pulled it down her body. It still fit her but it belonged in the pool than on the beach.

Next, she picked a bikini. Her face was a deep tomato shade as she slipped her arms through the thin straps. It was clear from her small collection of suits which she had brought and what Jaime had gifted. He liked her in very impractical and very skimpy bikinis. The one she was wearing he bought for her during their honeymoon last year—a silver lame bikini straight out of a cheesy porn. She told him, she remembered, seeing her face turn an even deeper shade of red. It went on her body, nevertheless, but she was barely two steps towards the hot tub when Jaime sprang from it, nearly nude, looking like a wet half-god with a determined expression on his face. A sure pull of the tie at the side of the bottoms and her cunt was bare. They fucked against the wall. Soon after, he dragged her to bed, turned her on her stomach. He fucked her from behind and she shrieked how much she loved him and for the love of the Seven, _to never stop fucking her._

Frankly, in broad daylight and her pale, heavily-freckled skin, the silver bikini didn’t look right. What on earth possessed Jaime to get it for her she will never know. She did wonder if she still looked good as she had when she first wore it. She turned to the side, frowning at the curve of her stomach. Sit-ups and laps did nothing in melting the roll in her middle that had been there following the birth of Jason Duncan and Michael Gerion. The bikini top gave her tits a bit of a lift but didn’t cover them completely—well, that’s why Jaime jumped out of the hot tub, she realized, chuckling under her breath and blushing. Her husband loved it when she wore V-necks, plunging necklines but she knew his favorite was her refusal to wear bras.

She turned away and went to put on another bikini. This one was more modest but of course, still revealing. It was leopard-print—another Jaime purchase. She tied the straps around her nape and made sure the bottom settled nicely around her wide hips. Jaime brought it for their upcoming annual Tarth vacation. He promised she would like it and she did. Though the bottom settled low on her waist, it had a tummy control panel that gave her the illusion of a flat stomach. The gathered string at her nape meant not just a lift for her tits but also cleavage. Pregnancies and breastfeeding had given her round, plump tits.

She stared at herself in the mirror, raising an arm to tuck her pale hair behind an ear when something caught her eye.

_Seven Hells. What was that?_

 She raised her arm and pinched the skin under it. She moved it and. . .it jiggled.

Eyes wide, she did a little wave in the mirror.

The skin under her arm waved too!

_She had chicken wings!_

She should sue whoever invented dumbbells. Or the liar who espoused that an active lifestyle kept the weight down, the body firm and fit. She could only check one box from that list and it wasn’t what she cared about.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she sighed. “Well, what are you going to do?”

She was clearly no longer that woman—younger, with tits to her chin and an ass forged from Valyrian steel. Anything that exposed skin other than the arms and legs shouldn’t be for women of forty-seven years. Whether a two-piece or a one-piece, she felt so exposed. She didn’t regret stretch marks across her ass but was she shallow for wishing they weren’t so visible? Shouldn’t she be more grateful that the most handsome man in Westeros was madly in love with her, _still_ , was a wonderful father, that their children had good manners, brains, kindness, that she never had to worry about paying anything on time? _Weren’t those more important?_

She didn’t know why but she suddenly burst out laughing.

She was still laughing when the door to the bedroom opened and Jaime entered. She turned away from the mirror, shaking her head at him he smiled at her. His hair was now fully silver and his figure, though still lean, had acquired some thickness in the last couple of years. But his cat-like emerald eyes still stared at her with frank, male appreciation and his dimpled smiled promised something outrageously naughty.

He put his briefcase down and flung the jacket draped over his arm on a chair. Loosening his tie, he looked at her curiously, but not without giving her bikini-clad figured a searing once-over. “Care to share the joke, wife?”

“It’s nothing,” she gasped, turning look at herself in the mirror again. “Just that the only beachwear option for women my age involves a turtleneck.”

“A turtleneck? Don’t be ridiculous,” Jaime said, going to her. He glanced at the suits on the bed before wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. She blushed as he kissed her soundly on the side of her neck before lowering his hand to her cunt.

His smile was positively lascivious at making a discovery. “You’ve waxed, wife.”

A gasp left her lips as he playfully nibbled on the tip of her ear while squeezing her cunt possessively. “I’ll miss the hair, though,” he whispered.

Jaime liked a full bush. A real woman’s cunt, he told her. Not to say he didn’t appreciate it bare ad pink. She tugged at his hair to get his lips on hers. “We’ll get it back soon,” she told him.

Their kiss was deep and ardent, lips parting each other’s wide to engage in sensual tongue-sparring. Through the mashing of their mouths, she felt Jaime tug the bikini bottoms down to be cup her cunt fully. She broke away from their kiss, her head falling on his shoulder as his fingers fucked her gently but deeply.

“So fucking sexy,” he growled in her ear, pressing against her back and letting her feel his growing erection.

“I will still have to start covering up on the beach, husband.” She said softly, her hips rolling in rhythm to the thrusts of his fingers. “I—I’m forty-seven. I-I shouldn’t be in a bathing suit.”

“I agree.” He told her and her spirits almost crashed to the ground until he added, “you should be naked.”

Her eyes, half-closed with desire, opened at his words. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder. She blushed as he loosened the ties at her nape while keeping his fingers buried in her cunt. His fingers looked very tan against the newly-exposed, pale pink triangle.

 _“Jaime. . .”_ She moaned as her top joined the other miniscule half of the suit at their feet.

 “Seven hells, wife.” He whispered, staring at her cunt. His breath was unsteady against her cheek. He urged her to turn to him so he could plant a deep, open-mouthed kiss on her. She kissed him back, coming close to collapsing against him as fucked her with increasing force. Fingers returned to her slit, easily parting the soaked flesh to strum her clit. She gasped and ripped her mouth away, watching with big eyes in the mirror as he kissed and nibbled her neck, fondled her tits and fingered her deeply.

_“Jaime.”_

“You always forget how fucking sexy you are,” he playfully scolded her. He stopped kissing her but kept his hand on her cunt. He smirked at her burning cheeks. Her blush intensified as he looked at her tits hungrily in the mirror. Her nipples were swollen and tight. Her breath sped up as he squeezed her tits and resumed finger-fucking her.

“You’re brilliant. You're sexy and beautiful, Brienne. You’re the mother of our children. _You’re mine._ ” He declared while tracing the faint scar of her C-section with a thumb. His touch was reverent before his hand lowered to the outside of her thighs, where her cellulite was.

“I _fucking hate_ that you have to wear clothes.” He added with a pout that she knew was half-serious.

Men liked women to be properly dressed with just a hint of sexy. Jaime Lannister was unlike all men. He didn’t like her in clothes and as soon as they were alone, would almost rip them off her. Sometimes, when they had the house to themselves, he would beg her to remain naked longer and she never refused. How could she? _She never wanted to._ As shy as she still was, she was helpless once he showed his gratitude through kisses, declarations of her beauty, his cock that refused to cease pounding in her. She accepted his compliments with screams of his name, of how much she loved him, that he should fuck her _hard and harder_. Her real gratitude was found in her cunt, so very wet and tight.

“Not even to cover my chicken wings, husband?” She managed to tease.

He kissed her on the shoulder. _“Never_ cover anything.”

Suddenly, he lifted her over his shoulder, fireman’s style. _Gods, his strength._ She squealed in surprise, ordering him to put her down and he spanked her on the ass. She giggled so she just let him carry her to bed, where he tossed down unceremoniously. As she gasped and hissed, he bounced down next to her, laughing.

Then they were kissing again.

She sighed happily, embracing him and wrapping one long, shapely leg around his hip. He tasted of mints, coffee and the dash of cinnamon he put in the brew. His silk tie teased her tits like the glide of a tongue and the growing bulge in his trousers made her cunt swell and ache in anticipation. She bit on his bottom lip before he flattened her on the bed and buried his tongue in her mouth. The hunger fed kiss by kiss bloomed and she sucked his tongue hard, her fingers combing through his hair gently suddenly grabbing them. The ferocious turn of their kiss drew a grunt from him and had his hands mapping her body.

“No clothes for you again,” he groaned, kissing down her throat, her collarbones. His name left her lips in a whine of longing as he kissed her nipple before taking it in his mouth. Loud, wet, sucking kisses made her blush race through the entire spectrum of shades while she arched toward him, moaning, crying out. Her arms flung to the sides before she grasped the bars of their headboard, offering her body to his kisses, falling into deeper passion for her husband.

He feasted on her tits, kissing them, sucking on her nipples until they were red and puckered. She watched his silver head move lower down her body. His tongue thrust in her belly button, imitating the promised motion of his cock in her cunt. His wide shoulders kept her thighs spread apart and he seized the advantage by pushing his fingers back inside her again.

“Gods,” she sobbed. _“Jaime!”_

His lips traced the faint scar of her C-section (Joanna Blue), brushing back and forth, back and forth, before pressing a full kiss on it. His fingers fucked her the entire time, the squelch of her cunt spread and yielding blending with her mewls and his husky testaments to her sexiness, her body, strong and bearing the marks of the children she brought into the word. Their love.

She was shaking by the time he raised his head. In his emerald eyes were the sexy wickedness that had been making her weak in the knees since day one. Yet he didn’t push his head between her thighs this time. Instead, he kissed her thighs.

He was kissing the lines scrawled across there. _Her cellulite._

She didn’t care if she will never look good in a bikini again. Fuck that. She would never give up being kissed like _this._ It was gratitude and reverence, it was for the woman she was and had become. She had never been anywhere close to the women with airbrushed images on a magazine but she felt like the goddess Jaime proclaimed her to be as he kissed up and down her thighs, licking  the faint marks scrawled across them. She was sure no woman had known _this._

Jaime, always ready to give more, always showing and telling her how he loved her. When his tongue finally traced the smooth, naked slit of her cunt, her lips uttered something that was probably a prayer. He was worshipping her, his tongue thrusting in and out of her cunt, catching every drop of honey pouring out of her. She felt like a goddess. She was also wonderfully, breathlessly, _divinely_ helpless from the sweet assault of his lips, tongue, his _fingers_.

He sucked on the plump lip of her cunt, keeping it trapped between his lips as he pushed three fingers in her drenched channel. She groaned, legs curving up and her hips rising. She felt fantastically full and exposed and so, so wanted more. “Jaime,” she cried out, her hands falling on her tits before her fingers tightened around her nipples and pinched them. A streak of lightning shot through her at the rough touch she had come to love, in Jaime’s hands and her own, while her hips thrust back in response to the force of his fingers.

He sucked on her clit and sucked her harder when she moaned it was too much but begged him to _never stop._ He licked the soaked, sensitive pink line past her slit as his fingers fucked her hard. She thrashed and cried out, her pinches on her nipples faltering as she felt the promise of sweet, heady release.

Jaime, still tonguing her clit, curled his fingers inside her cunt in quick, successive motions. Brienne’s eyes widened ad she growled his name loudly, her hips thrusting mercilessly against his fingers as if in a battle. She groaned as she felt herself seeming to fall from the edge towards momentary but the sweetest death of all.

He continued kissing and licking her cunt in earnest long after she collapsed limply on the bed. He dragged another orgasm from her and he suddenly shouted, his body trembling sharply against her before resting his head heavily on her thigh. More limp now, she could only lie in bed with her arms on her sides and her legs wide. She barely noticed her husband falling beside her, still in his clothes.

Jaime caught her cheek in his hand and turned her so he could kiss her. Their kiss was slow, lazy, their lips finally falling slack while their eager tongues continued to spar. He put his arms around her and she snuggled against him. His white shirt clung to his arm from the sweat. She blushed as he licked the wet thread tracing the long line of her throat.

“You should always be naked so it would be easy to fuck you,” he whispered with a smile. She blushed and put her arm around his waist, draped her leg around him. Her knee brushed a damp spot on his thighs and she blushed. He chuckled. "Hells, Brienne. I haven't come in my pants since I was fourteen. Yep. I should keep you away from clothes."

“I want you naked too,” she confessed shyly.

“I will be,” he promised. He kissed her damp forehead. “You’re just so fucking irresistible it’s impossible to stop and strip. Maybe if your cunt isn’t so delicious---”

“Oh, gods.” She smooshed her face between his neck and shoulder. “ _Husband_. You’re so outrageous.”

“What else will I be when married to the sexiest woman in Westeros?”

Brienne smiled at him. She promised to herself that once they were in Tarth, she wouldn’t wear a stitch of clothing in the bedroom. And she would wear a bikini—even the silver one. She could already see how thrilled Jaime was going to be once she gave him the good news.

But there was something more important to say.

“My Jaime.” She touched him on the cheek. Her sapphire eyes were soft. “I love you.”

He cradled her hand to his cheek, kissing her palm briefly. He settled more comfortably on the pillows and held her tightly.

“I love you back, Brienne.” A beat then he added, “Please don’t wear clothes again. Just your gorgeous sapphire eyes,” he said, brushing her hair back. “And freckles?” His expression was hopeful.

She laughed for only _Jaime_ would say such a thing.

She loved it.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't realize I had written so many JB fanfics until I started marking them private. It's a bitch but I'm doing it. Way too slowly for my taste but it's happening. Gifts will remain public.
> 
> A few authors have been copying scenes from my works. Reports have been filed to AO3 as of today. That's right. REPORTS. I don't know what will become of them but by making my fics private, it might lessen the chances of being plagiarized. 
> 
> Some people have taken advantage of this disappointing situation by claiming that I was outright accusing certain authors of copying my work. I never identified anyone. Despite what happened, I'm still willing to give people the benefit of the doubt--despite the glaring evidence.
> 
> But isn't it strange that some people think I made explicit accusations when I haven't even given any specific details? Bull's eye. Those are the assholes copying me, I'd bet. 
> 
> Some members of a certain group, who think they're hot shit and all, have been trolling other people's fics and telling them lies. If they really believe that, well, why aren't they providing the link to that Tumblr post? Because it will confirm I'm telling the truth. 
> 
> So, to those who want to know the entire ugly story: https://ohcaptaintarthister.tumblr.com/post/170533587289/whats-mine-and-when-is-it-yours
> 
> And Part II, where I had to post a clarification that I was NOT accusing the author in question at all. Shame on you. SHE'S DOING ORIGINAL WORK. You're not. You can't because you write shit.  
> https://ohcaptaintarthister.tumblr.com/post/170653670494/when-no-one-has-something-to-say
> 
> Thanks a lot, No One. I wish a thousand Cersei Lannisters upon you. Oh, wait. No. I like the character. Sending you ice spiders, then. 
> 
> If you're part of any fandom that encourages bullying and trolling just because other people ship differently, you might want to re-think your membership. I certainly am. Big mistake, is all I can say. That's no longer the group I signed up for. You're better off writing the stories you want than creating an AO3 profile to troll and bully other writers.
> 
> I can just imagine certain people from that group who will once again read my fic, yak about me, only for other members of the same group to ignore them and talk about other stuff. Cooler stuff!
> 
> Plagiarism is a big deal but the reading comprehension of boneheads. . .sad. Well, no wonder their fics suck. They don't read. To write well, you gotta read. 
> 
> Oh, well. I'm not the one creating all the drama. You are. All I'm after is to make things right. All YOU want to do is obsess over my works, copy them and diss me. 
> 
> Get a job and get laid, assholes. Yeah. You need both.


End file.
